


on my couch!?

by valleyradionerd



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valleyradionerd/pseuds/valleyradionerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monroe wakes up with not only Nick Burkhart, Grimm-shaped annoyance, draped all over him, but with a Reinigen asleep on his hip and a Jagerbear taking up more than his fair share of the couch. How?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in years and unbetaed. Constructive criticism always welcome. Also, the rating is mostly just because I'm not entirely sure where this is going, and it may very well go there. 
> 
> Also- I realize that Roddy’s still in high school in _Danse Macabre_ so just assume that this takes place at some point slightly into the future. Along similar detail oriented lines- I don’t remember the layout of Monroe’s house- I just going with whatever is convenient.

The first thing Monroe thought was, 'what the fuck is poking me in the ass?'

The second thing, followed almost instantaneously by number three was 'who the hell is snoring and why the fuck is my shoulder wet?' Thing one was, somehow, not the thing he had been thinking about poking him in the ass for the past few months. He wasn't a child, he was pretty certain he could tell the difference between genitalia and some rock solid that might as well have been a freaking ball-peen hammer crushed against his tail bone. 

He wasn't at all sure he wanted to open his eyes. For all he knew whatever recent creature of the week Nick had called him for help with had captured him and locked him in its tool box had fallen asleep while practicing Chinese water torture with tepid water.

Yeah, right. 

Besides, he knew the scent under his nose. 

And, okay, it was his own living room all warm sunlit colors and his own knick knacks everywhere. Nick smell everywhere, too, because apparently that man just had to invade every single corner of his life. 

Though it was probably partially due to the fact that it was Nick nestled into his shoulder and drooling onto his shirt. And seriously, pretty was all well and good, but it still didn't excuse drool.

The urge to say 'ew, dude,’ came out more as "urghh."

But if Nick was on his shoulder-

The sharp, pointy object poking him shifted and he craned his head to look down past Nick's sleeping face to...was that seriously Roddy asleep on his hip? The mop of hair that was just visible underneath another massive body looked like it was probably Roddy. It was hard to tell. There was a giant Jagerbear cub on top of way more than a fair two thirds of the couch. 

Why the hell couldn't he remember crashing on the couch with a fucking Grimm, and two teenage wessen? 

"Urmph," the noise, even less coherent than his own attempted came from somewhere under Barry's cheek, "dude, you're crushing me, gerroff." 

"Uurrrh?"And yeah, that was bear-noise, all low and throaty and rumbling. Monroe thought that maybe it should get him up in arms but...the kid had pillow marks on his cheek. From Monroe's couch. 

Barry shifted, curling downwards as if he was trying to snuggle back into bed. His knee shifted, slipping away from where it had been tucked tightly against Roddy's leg and slid off the side of the couch. One huge foot swung down towards the floor, and he seemed to scrabble in his sleep. His athletic sock slipped against the wood flooring and he slid faster, big body rolling towards the floor, arms apparently wrapped tightly enough around Roddy that he took the other teenager with him as he went crashing to the ground. 

Roddy rolled upright quickly, pushing away from Barry by scooting crab-wise across the floor. 

"Dude!"

"Roddy?" Barry rolled over back against the legs of the couch, and rubbed at the back of his head "ow."

"Yeah, ow, you giant klutz," but Roddy was scooting forward, not so much reaching for Barry as sticking out a finger to prod at his skull where he was rubbing. Barry winced, and Roddy just shook his head. "You're fine. You're skull's too thick to do any real damage. Except to Monroe's floor."

Barry rubbed a hand across his face and looked up at Monroe, "sorry, dude."

Monroe groaned, "is there blood?" he managed to ask over Nick's head. And how the hell had the Grimm managed to sleep through all that? He was going to get killed in his bed one of these days.

"Naw."

"Then I don't want to hear about it until I get coffee."

"You want me to run to Starbucks?" Barry offered.

"Do I want you to..." Monroe stifled a growl and a rant about crap-tastic coffee, "no. Thank you," he tried shoving at Nick, "wake up." Nick just twisted further into Monroe, starting a new wet spot in the middle of his shirt. 

Roddy snickered, and did a poor job of quelling it when Monroe glared at him. Barry was somehow managing to take up half of his entire living room floor.

And what the hell were the two of them doing in his house anyway?

"Care to explain?" he asked Roddy, trying again to just shake Nick awake.

"Dude, can't you just, you know, pick him up?" Barry asked. 

"I-" Monroe was going to blame the heat in his face on the fact he had just woken up. 

Roddy kept snickering. It really wasn't helping.


	2. Chapter 2

Nick was making snuffling noises into Monroe’s shirt. Monroe wrestled his arm from underneath the sleeping Grimm and grasped him firmly by the shoulders, half lifting, half rolling Nick off of him and on to the couch so that Monroe could slip away.

Nick tried to roll over against the couch and started sliding off of it. With a sigh meant to hold years of exasperation, Monroe grabbed him by the collar of his finally un-artfully rumpled shirt and hauled him back up. 

Nick blinked up at him.

“Mrgle?”

…there was a slight chance that it was supposed to be ‘Monroe’. Which in no way, shape, or form made Monroe want to pet Nick’s birdnest hair until he relaxed.

So he settled for, “come on, sleeping beauty, time to wake up.”

“Urrgh.” Nick flopped over, not sliding this time but instead dropping his hand down right onto Monroe’s hip.

…well, not quite his hip. 

He was going to get a headache if he had to keep glaring at Roddy. The kid giggled too much to be anything other than a teenage girl. He moved Nick’s hand back into neutral territory (ie- the couch). 

“It’s time to get up.”

“I am up.”

It might have come out clearly, but Nick’s eyes were not open and he was curling up a bit, like he was trying to settle back in for sleep.

“You’re not. That’s like saying mall Santas are real. They might look like him, but we all know it’s a lie.”

“Mfrgle.”

“Grimm.”

Nick rolled over and blinked at Monroe, “you can’t be missing Christmas already.”

“It’s been five months.”

“What am I doing on your couch?”

“Drooling, mostly.”

“Ha ha.” Nick pushed himself upright and looked around the room, “Roddy? And…is it Barry? What are you guys doing here?”

“We brought you home, man,” Barry said, looking away from Roddy to smile at Nick. “You were, like, wasted or something.”

Monroe shook his head, “that doesn’t sound right.”

Roddy snorted, “were you not there? Wasted is the only thing that does sound right.”

“I don’t remember drinking last night,” Nick said, looking to Monroe as if the Blutbad might have been taking notes. Which…wasn’t that the cop’s job? “Actually,” Nick continued, “I don’t remember much of anything from last night,” he was frowning in a way that made Monroe want to pet him, and make him breakfast and, mostly, dig apart his brain because there was probably a Very Bad Idea brewing in there somewhere. 

“You called me,” Monroe said, “and made me meet you…somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Would I be saying somewhere if I remembered?” Monroe wanted to go into the kitchen and make coffee. Like, now. Actually, he wanted to go into the kitchen and pretend that his house wasn’t full of people he didn’t remember inviting in.

He minded less than he thought he would. After all, it wasn’t like he wanted to run away until they all got the hint and left. He just wanted a minute to figure out what was going on. 

Besides, he suspected that with these three there would be no hint-getting.

“I don’t know,” Nick said, “maybe you’re trying to protect Roddy and Barry’s impressionable teenage minds.”

Monroe raised an eyebrow, and glanced at the teenager’s on his floor. Roddy was looking at them like they were a particularly annoying science experiment and Barry…Barry was picking at the unraveling hem of Roddy’s jeans. “I suspect that those two are way past impressionable.”

Roddy just shrugged, “you guys managed to do your best to scar us last night. I wouldn’t worry about anything you have to say now.”

Nick frowned, and started patting his pockets, probably looking for his phone, “what do you mean? Are you guys okay?”

“Aside from needing to bleach my brain to get rid of the image of you two sucking face in the back seat of the truck we’re fine.”

Nick stalled in his patting and his face went white. Monroe goggled at Roddy,

“Excuse me, what?”


	3. Chapter 3

Roddy just grinned at them. Monroe was tempted to smack the smugness right out of him.

He was pretty sure he’d be less grouchy if the lot of them hadn’t blown his morning routine sky high. 

Though, given a night that he couldn’t remember there was a good chance that his routine would have been blown anyway. 

The kid had to be lying to get a rise out of them. Right? 

Except…he had woken with a warm, familiar weight on his chest, Nick’s body pressed against his as if it knew where to fit. God only knew that Nick had always been able to find what buttons to push that ran the fine line between abominably annoying and phenomenally attractive. 

He still couldn’t figure out why they would have been kissing. It wasn’t so much that they hadn’t been flirting, never mind the series of near-dates. But he had been pretty sure that they were just skirting around the actual idea of…chemistry. He had been working on the assumption that it was a really ill-advised unrequited crush on his part and pure metrosexual playfulness on Nick’s. 

Maybe they had gotten drunk. 

Except he didn’t feel hung over, and to be drunk enough to have dropped his guard that badly around Nick he was fairly certain that he would have needed hangover-inducing amounts of alcohol. 

“You don’t remember?” Roddy was going to hurt himself snickering, Monroe thought, and it would serve him right, “it was like a steam box in there. Barry had to turn on the defroster just to see out the front window.”

He couldn’t quite manage to look at Nick. He didn’t want to see the look of horror on the other man’s face. 

“Huh,” Roddy said, “wow. That’s fucked.” He didn’t exactly look displeased, Monroe was ready to swat him. 

Which would undoubtedly ruin their best chance of figuring out what had happened the previous night.

Self-control. He was all about self-control. 

“Just what happened?” Nick asked, scooting in tiny movements towards the arm of the couch. 

As if he was trying to get away from Monroe. Wasn’t that flattering? Fuck.

“We were-“

“Wait,” Monroe cut in, “you weren’t going to answer me, but for him, no problem?”

“He’s the Grimm.”

Monroe growled a bit, “yeah, and?” 

Barry laughed, “we saw your fridge, dude.”

“His fridge?” Roddy scoffed, “try his house.” 

“Watch it with the stone throwing, kid.” And seriously? He wasn’t sure how they could find Nick scary at all. His drool was all over Monroe’s shirt, for chrissake. Yeah, it wasn’t like he didn’t have his freaking badass Grimm moments. Monroe had been privy to more of them than he would have liked (though the only one he really objected to had been the first). But otherwise? 

Drool. And pillow creases.

“We were out driving,” Roddy said, a lilt to the word that apparently meant something to Barry, who flushed and scratched at the back of his neck, “we saw you guys stumbling around in the road. We figured we should make sure you were okay, so no one would blame us when you got hit by a car.”

“We were doing what in the road?” Monroe asked, except apparently Nick had gotten hold of another end of the information.

“Don’t you two have curfew? Aren’t you still on probation?”

“Uh-“

“I’m going to pretend you were driving back from a school function,” Nick said, nodding seriously.

“Do they even go to the same school?” Monroe asked, glaring right back at Roddy when the little rat turned to make a face at him.

“Where did you find us?” Nick asked right over the end of his question.

“Over by the park on thirty third.”

“Great, another midnight jaunt through the woods.”

“I thought you liked the woods.”

“Not when there’s a good chance that I’m going to be the one who gets hunted, I don’t,” and when he went out with Nick the chances were far too heavily weighted in that direction. “Anyway, we weren’t in the woods, apparently we were wandering in the road.”

“It was definitely drunken stumbling,” Roddy corrected, “Barry?”

Barry looked up from his contemplation of Roddy’s sneaker, “yeah. Totally.”

“And we just climbed into your car?” Monroe asked.

“You trusted me,” Roddy said, though the angelic smile didn’t sit well on him, “also you really weren’t in a state to argue.”

“How’d you get us back here?” Nick asked. 

“Got the address from his license,” Roddy said, nodding toward Monroe.

“Why not his?” Monroe asked, pointing at Nick. 

Roddy scoffed. “I’m not touching a Grimm. Besides, you kept growling at Barry when he was trying to help him into the truck.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or touched,” Nick laughed, but it was a little stilted. He frowned, “I really don’t remember drinking.” He looked to Monroe, “do I smell like alcohol?”

“What am I,” Monroe muttered, even as he leaned back into Nick’s space, “your personal breathalyzer?”

Nick just chuckled. It almost sounded natural. 

In the face of Nick’s scent the pesky traces of boysweat, gasoline, and aged wood coming off of Barry and Roddy faded into nonexistence. Nick smelled of sleep, warm sweat and musk that didn’t quite hit the level of B.O., of leather and cotton and a trace of gunpowder.

Of Monroe.

Which was- startling- to say the least. It was one thing to know that Nick had slept half on top of him; it was another entirely to be hit in the olfactory senses with the fact that there had definitely been something more than sleeping going on. Nick smelled good.

Nick almost smelled marked.

Monroe jerked backwards, yanking a neck muscle a little and causing Nick to look at him like he had said something mean about his jacket or his car. 

“So?” Nick asked.

“No,” Monroe said, hastily, “but couldn’t it have been metabolized by now?”

“Not if I was as drunk as Roddy is claiming.”

“Then what happened?”

“Know any creatures that cause anterograde amnesia?”

“Right,” Monroe grumbled, “because what was the chance you asked me to meet you somewhere to do something other than creature hunt?”

“Don’t fairies make you forget things?” Roddy asked, smirking, “I think they have love dust, too.”

“Shut up, kid.” Monroe growled. The teens may have gotten them home and he was pretty sure that, given a couple of days, he could be grateful. He was just unclear as to what they were still in his house.

“Fairies?” Nick asked, “what are they like?”

“He’s yanking your chain,” Monroe told him, “everyone knows there are no such things as fairies.”

“Every time you say that a fairy dies,” Roddy said. 

“Really?” Barry asked, looking up at Roddy.

Roddy just rolled his eyes and either patted or smacked Barry on the back of the head, Monroe wasn’t entirely sure that it made any difference. At least not to Barry, who lent back in to the gesture.

“Werewolves and Reinegin and Jagerbears, yes, but no fairies?” Nick asked.

“Blutbad, and don’t be ridiculous.”

“What about leprechauns?”

“They don’t give you amnesia. They just take all your money.”

“That’s racist, you know,” Barry said. 

“So fairies don’t use charm and glamour to trick children away?” Nick asked.

“No, those are cults.”

“Not fairies, then.”

“Not unless we’ve stepped into OZ.”

“There were fairies in prison?” Barry asked.

Monroe sighed, “different OZ.”

Roddy snickered, and leaned into to whisper something into Barry’s ear. Barry promptly went bright red. Monroe really did not want to know. 

“Certain spider and snake bites can cause memory loss,” he offered.

“So can most forms of trauma.”

“You two didn’t really seem all that traumatized,” Roddy said. 

He was really sitting very close to Barry.


End file.
